


Some Protector

by K9Lasko



Category: Psych
Genre: 6.16 Santabarbaratown, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K9Lasko/pseuds/K9Lasko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who's protecting who in this relationship?</p>
<p>Missing scene in episode 6.16 "Santabarbaratown." Possible spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Protector

 

  


Some Protector

_A missing scene_

 

 

 

He had very little recollection as to how or why he ended up in this alley, propped against a garbage can, hands clutching at his face. The seconds separating the moment he got yanked off the sidewalk and the moment he got cold-cocked in the face were a little fuzzy, to say the least. During all that excitement, the adrenaline might have gone to his head. Adrenaline mixed with a healthy dose of shock and fear, although he’d never willingly admit the latter.

 

The sensation of the knife -- a seriously large knife -- against his throat. A strong arm gripped his body tightly, an elbow drove into his side. A voice growled in his ear, pushed hot, minty breath against the side of his face. Altoids, maybe. Or Listerine. For that, Shawn had been grateful. There was nothing quite like facing death while being bathed in the essence of onions, garlic, stinky cheese, and gum disease.

 

_“Find another case.”_

 

He’d squirmed as much as he could, balking at the reality of his immobilization. He ran his mouth, his greatest weapon. That and the small Swiss army knife tucked uselessly in the pocket of his jeans.

 

Always carry a Swiss. That was great advice, dad.

 

Shawn’s tiny blade was like piss in the ocean when compared to the Crocodile Dundee-sized quasi-machete that was a half-dozen millimeters away from sticking him like a pig. He’d squeaked as he cringed, his over-active imagination over-reacting yet again; he was so not prepared for this.

 

_“This is your last warning.”_

 

And then, that was it.

 

Fast forward seconds, or minutes -- maybe even hours -- to the present, judging by how numb his butt felt, and how he suddenly felt like he was freezing to death. Shawn’s back was pressed against the smooth industrial grade plastic. His face throbbed and something wet dribbled across his palm. He suddenly thought of Gus peeling away in the blueberry, speeding towards those two Toblerones. Lucky bastard.

 

And Shawn was doing what? Sitting here on the pavement in a daze after having been assaulted by a mystery man with pleasant smelling breath. Wait. Not a mystery. Jordan.

 

He shook his head, which only gained him a stabbing pain and a woozy, I-might-vomit-now sensation. Reaching out into the darkness, Shawn listed suddenly to one side. He met the concrete with an _oof_ , his forearms and bloody palms saving his face from further abuse. Okay, so no one had ever accused him to being graceful.

 

Once the ground stopped moving, Shawn worked on getting to his feet. The giant cockroach that was innocently exploring the area next to his right hand nearly made him keel over yet again. After reeling away from the offending insect -- seemingly newly arrived from the Jurassic period -- he could only bark out a ragged kind of laugh.

 

_Very brave, Shawn,_ he noted inwardly. _Of course Jules should feel safe with me. Just afraid of a little (giant) bug._

 

Squinting into the dim light, he guessed that his curious cockroach companion had since retreated to parts unknown. He would have felt a loss if the thing hadn’t been so damned creepy.

 

Wait. Juliet.

 

Her front door was a few feet from here. At least, he _thought_ her front door was a few feet from here. The details of his detour into the alley were still fuzzy. No, not fuzzy. Blurry. Slightly out of focus. He had to give himself some credit. For a man who just had his face bashed in, Shawn had at least half a dozen brain cells left. And they were doing a pretty decent job putting two and two together, if a bit sluggishly.

 

If Jordan had been waiting for him here, mere feet from Jules’ unguarded door, then what if--

 

“Jules,” he grunted as he drunkenly clawed his way to his feet. What if Jordan had gone after Juliet while Shawn was busy sleeping it off next to her garbage can? _Some protector I am._ It was just one punch! From a surprisingly solid set of knuckles, but still -- just a punch. Not like he got shot, again, and then stuffed into a car trunk.

 

Shawn groaned and dragged himself back out onto the sidewalk. His face was pulsating while simultaneously burning, his nose was still leaking, and he was pretty sure the street grit had embedded itself permanently into his arms. But none of that mattered when he still had no idea what Jordan had in store for Jules. _God, if that bastard--_ He shook his head, which again made his brain ache in protest. He couldn’t think about that; he had to _move_ , damnit!

 

\--

 

Juliet poked at the brownies with a toothpick, smiling when it came out clean. After gouging out a little corner for herself, she left the pan on the stovetop to cool and returned to the living room. She bit her lip and glanced at the clock, which was swinging just shy of 9:30. Not _too_ late, but still late enough.

 

She knew that Shawn was really into this case, like he was with all his cases, but he usually would call by now. He wouldn’t keep her worrying. Slowly chewing on the cooling piece of brownie crust, Juliet grabbed for her phone, pressing speed dial number three.

 

It rang. And rang. Until finally a groggy, “Hello?”

 

“Shawn?” She asked into the phone. “Are you sleeping?”

 

“God, no. I’m, uh,” Shawn winced. “I’m outside.”

 

Juliet stood up from the couch, the taste of brownie sticking to the roof of her mouth. “Outside where?” There was a pause, and then she nearly jumped out of her skin when somebody knocked on the door. “Shawn?” She looked towards the door, hesitating. This was a weird start to a conversation, even for Shawn.

 

“I’m, uh, I’m standing outside,” Shawn was speaking through the phone again. “Outside your door. Knocking on it. Softly.”

 

Letting out a breath and shaking her head in exasperation, Juliet snapped the phone shut and worked on opening the door. “Shawn, you scared the hell out of me,” she scolded as the door swung wide, letting in a little burst of cool night air. It also let in a very disheveled and confused looking Shawn. He was pressing a hand against his eye. There was blood drying to his face and arms. She bit back her worry and demanded, “What happened?”

 

Shawn looked at her owlishly for a moment, and then he blinked. “Oh thank god,” he stepped forward unsteadily and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re okay.”

 

Confused, Juliet let him cling to her for a moment, but after a while she gripped his shoulders and pushed him away. She looked at him closely. His eye was already starting to bruise and his nose was just a little bloody. “What happened?” she asked again, voice firm yet still reassuringly gentle.

 

“Gus dropped me off,” Shawn answered with just a bit of a slur, “I was walking… I don’t really know what happened. Some guy grabbed me and--“

 

“Who was it?” she broke in.

 

“I, uh, I’m not sure. But I have an idea.” Shawn swayed a little, but Juliet’s strong arms propped him up. _It should be the other way around_ , he thought wryly. _Some protector…_

 

“Shawn,” Juliet was calling out to him, willing him back to wherever his brain had drifted. “Do you know who did this to you?”

 

“He told me to find another case,” he jabbered. “Told me that this was the last warning.”

 

“ _Who?_ ”

 

“Uh,” Shawn paused, “Jordan Beaumont?”

 

Juliet frowned, studying his face and taking note of his confusion. She already knew what that meant. “But you’re not sure,” she affirmed.

 

“No, uh, maybe. Yes? Maybe it was him. Whoever it was, he was wearing a mask. And, uh, and he had a knife. A big knife. Pretty sure it was him, though.”

 

While Juliet was closing the door, Shawn’s feet somehow got tangled with each other. Luckily she caught him before he could take a header into the coffee table. “Let’s clean you up, babe.” She tugged him towards the kitchen. “And then I’m going to call Carlton. Have him take care of Jordan for you.” Juliet passed her boyfriend a worried smile. He still looked awfully confused, but now it was tinged with a bit of a frown.

 

“No, I can do it,” Shawn slurred. “He won’t know what’s coming.”

 

Juliet raised a brow in question, but she went ahead and turned on the faucet in the kitchen sink, waiting for the water to warm. “That’s gonna be a bruise,” she softly noted, tentatively touching the angry skin around Shawn’s eye.

 

Shawn rested a hip against the counter and breathed out a sigh. “Sorry, Jules. I’m a mess.”

 

Without a word, she took his palms and ran them under the warm water. She brushed off the grit and bits of broken glass while rubbing away the blood. “You’re shaking,” she noted, while rubbing a soothing thumb over the thin skin of his wrist.

 

“I was s’posed to take care of _you_ ,” Shawn mumbled.

 

She took a wet rag and started cleaning his face. “And you have, Shawn,” Juliet assured him.

 

He continued, “S’posed to be _protecting you_.”

 

Dabbing his face dry, Juliet leaned forward and kissed his brow lightly. “You have,” she repeated as she nudged him towards the kitchen table. She then handed him a bag of frozen peas. “Put that on your eye,” she instructed.

 

“Face hurts like hell,” Shawn’s words still ran together, nearly unintelligible. He’d been dead tired even _before_ he was sucker punched. Now he was functioning like the undead. “Smells like brownies.” Sore palms pressed against the smooth, cool grain of the table, Shawn looked around for wherever Juliet had gone off to.

 

She surprised him by showing up right in front of his face, with a still-warm brownie heaped on a paper plate. “Eat a brownie, Shawn. You’ll feel better.”

 

Shawn waited a moment before tearing off a chunk. “No M&M’s?”

 

“You have Gus to thank for that,” Juliet snorted as she pulled out a chair to sit beside him.

 

“S’good anyway,” he commented, eating another piece. “Jus’ don’t let Gus see them. He’ll eat the whole pan.”

 

Juliet suddenly reached out and squeezed his forearm. He was still shaking, although it had lessened to a mild tremble. “You okay? Whoever it was hit you pretty hard.”

 

He blinked wearily. “M’fine, Jules. It’s you I’m worried about.”

 

“Me?” She looked at him carefully. “I’m not the one who just got their brains scrambled by a mystery assailant.”

 

Shawn’s hazel eyes were peering at her now with a deepness that was more than a little disarming. “What if he’d come for you, too? I wouldn’t have been able to stop it.”

 

“He didn’t, Shawn.”

 

He shook his head, wincing at the pain. He still hadn’t learned to avoid doing that. “Some protector I am.”

 

Juliet nudged his shoulder. “ _You_ ,” she began, “are my very special, very _brave_ , very _capable_ protector. And I think it’s time for you to take a break, so stand down, soldier.” Squeezing his arm one more time, she stole the rest of his brownie, swept up the crumbs, and moved towards the garbage can. “Up up! Time for bed. Don’t forget your peas.”

 

Trailing obediently after her, already half-asleep, Shawn announced to the room, “Y’know what, Jules? I’m totally gonna deck that bastard.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks go to Kirei at Psychfic.com for this wonderful idea.


End file.
